


The Grass is Always Greener on the Other Side

by seekingtomorrow



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, F/F, F/M, Humor, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-23
Updated: 2013-06-10
Packaged: 2017-12-12 17:50:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,377
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/814305
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/seekingtomorrow/pseuds/seekingtomorrow
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In which Robb Stark is a frustrated high school senior forced to re-take Planning, and Dacey Mormont is his hot teacher. Also features a class full of misfits who aren't really misfits.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. in which Robb realizes he failed

**Author's Note:**

> If you're confused as to what Planning class is, it's this mandatory class I (along with everyone else) had to take in grade 10. Basically, we learn about sex ed, how to write a CV and resume, what to look for when buying property, etc. It's supposed to prepare you for real life, but it didn't really prepare me for anything. It's an easy A though, so I won't complain too much.

Mr. Luwin, guidance counsellor for King's Landing Secondary School's seniors, peered over the half-moons of his horn-rimmed spectacles at Robb. "I'm sorry, Robb. Unless you re-take Planning, you won't be able to graduate."

Robb angrily slumped in the vinyl seat, his arms crossed. "Isn't there anything else I could do? An assignment, maybe?"

Mr. Luwin shook his head. "You have to actually re-take the class. It looks like you didn't even show up for more than half of them in the tenth grade."

"It was my rebellious stage," muttered Robb under his breath.

"Understandable." Mr. Luwin nodded. "But not excusable. Which planning class do you want me to enroll you in?"

"None of them!" Robb said indignantly.

"Would you be opposed to Ms. Mormont's class? It's rather small and full of other students who've failed to fulfill this requirement."

"I don't want to be in a class full of failures."

"They're not failures," sighed Mr. Luwin. "They're all lovely students who've just had some trouble with this class."

Robb huffed, defeated. "So all I have to do is pass this class and I can graduate."

"Precisely," Mr. Luwin answered, nodding. "I think you'll like Ms. Mormont. She's new and hasn't had the chance to properly teach a class yet."

"Great," drawled Robb sarcastically. He was not looking forward to having some keen, upstart of a teacher try to teach him useless life skills. "Can I go now? I have soccer practice."

"Of course," Mr. Luwin said. "But if I find that you're not attending this class, I will be forced to report your behaviour to the principal and have your soccer playing privileges revoked."

"But you can't!"

Mr. Luwin stood up abruptly, nearly upsetting the mug of tea on his desk that the students always suspected was spiked with something stronger. "I can," he said in an icy voice. "And if need be, I will."

Robb slunk down. "Listen, Mr. Luwin," he said. "I'm decent, but not at all that great with school. Soccer's where my strengths are. You can't do this to me."

Mr. Luwin took his glasses off and placed his elbows on the paper-covered desk, rubbing his temples. "I know, Robb. But, you have to promise me that you'll try. If only you were more like Jon…"

"And if I don't?" Robb shot back, bristling at the mention of his perfect older brother. Jon Stark was the golden child of the Stark family. He'd breezed through high school, managing to become captain of the soccer team while maintaining a 4.0 GPA, a steady girlfriend, and several other extracurricular activities. "Try, that is?"

Mr. Luwin looked up, his gaze more worried than angry. "Then you'll be held back a year. Now, I'll ask you again: which planning class do you want me to enroll you in?"

"What're the options?" Robb asked, feeling already defeated.

"There's Mr. Qyburn's grade ten class. Your sister, Arya, is in that class."

Robb shuttered. "Not Qyburn's class. Not Qyburn's anything."

"Fair enough." Shrugged Mr. Luwin. "What about taking it online?"

"I don't think so." Robb shook his head. "I'd prefer to take it in a classroom. If it's online, I'll get way too distracted. What was that other class you mentioned earlier?"

"Ms. Mormont's class?"

"Yeah. Can I take that?"

"Why of course you can," said Mr. Luwin.

"Okay, good. And now that that's sorted out," Robb began to gather up his backpack, "can I go now?"

"So you're good with Ms. Mormont's class, then?"

"Yeah, yeah," said Robb dismissively. "See you around, Mr. Luwin."

"Alright, Robb." Mr. Luwin said. "I'll see you at your next game against Braavos."

"Thanks."

With that, Robb strode out of guidance counselor suite, avoiding the throng of students that had started to crowd the area. Pushing his way past, he opened the glass door and pushed out into the surprisingly empty hallway. As he began to slip headphones in his ears, he heard his name being called.

"Robb! Ay, take those headphones out! If you keep listening to boy-bands, you're going to start thinking like them!"

Robb sighed heavily and turned to face the source of the voice. He was greeted with a disturbingly familiar sight. All six feet of Loras Tyrell was hurtling toward him at a startling rate. Robb braced himself for the inevitable impact.

"Dude!"

Robb cracked open one eye.

"Dude," Loras called out exasperatedly. He held out a fist, which Robb hesitantly bumped his own fist against. "Oh R'hllor, did you actually just fist pump me?"

"Did I what?"

"Fist pump!" Loras said, waving his arms about. "Dude, fist pumps are for losers like," Loras reached out and grabbed a lanky kid by his backpack, "like Lommy Greenhands! Hey kid." He held out his fist.

"Loras," the kid greeted, bumping his fist against Loras'.

"Alright, you're free to go." Loras gave Lommy an almighty push and sent the poor kid flying.

"Dude, did you just push a kid into the girls' washroom?" Robb asked. Inwardly, he questioned the decision he'd made to befriend Loras five years ago.

"Did I?" Loras asked. He clapped his hands on his jeans. "Oh well. Kid's gotta learn about anatomy someday. Come on." Grabbing the shorter Robb by the scruff of his collar, he pulled him along.

"Where're we going?"

"Somewhere I can smoke without Pycelle getting up in my ass."

"Football quad?"

"Football quad."

* * *

"Dude, that sucks," said Loras empathetically, stretching languidly. "Slim Jim?" He asked, offering Robb half of the pepperoni stick he was chewing on.

"Ew, I don't want your half-eaten stick of pepperoni!"

Loras shrugged. "Suit yourself, dude. Yeah, that sucks _balls_." He ripped the Slim Jim viciously, chewing with relish. "I'd be totally flipping out if I was you."

"Well, the entire population of King's Landing thanks the Old Gods each day that you're not."

"Whoa," Loras held up his hands, "chill out there, ranger. No need to be all moody."

Robb brought his knees up and buried his face in-between them, temporarily ignoring the pain in his tailbone caused by the aluminum bleachers. "If I don't pass, I'm not going to graduate."

Loras put down his food. Moving closer, he slung an arm around his closest friend. "Buddy, you're going to be just fine. Trust me. You know who how I know?"

Robb looked up, eyeing Loras hopefully. "How?"

Loras grinned brightly. "Margaery passed planning in grade ten. Piece of cake."

"Your twin sister?" Robb sat up. "Margaery, who had to retake English, passed planning?"

"Nah, I'm just kidding with you. She's actually in the same boat as you right now."

Robb deflated. "So she didn't pass?" He muttered to himself, "Well it's not like I expected much from her, academically-wise."

"What did you say about me, you twerp?"

Robb froze. Loras stifled a laugh behind his hands. Just to the right of the two boys stood the intimidating, shapely figure of Margaery Tyrell, whose position—feet planted, hands on hips—exuded power and a subtle aura of "I'm going to drink your soul out through a straw and then regurgitate it onto the grave of your hopes and dreams."

"Did I fucking stutter?" She asked, leaning in close to Robb.

"I heard you failed planning," Robb said casually, not wanting to back down from this particular battle.

"I heard your dad spelled your name with one 'b' on the family Christmas card."

Robb whipped around to face Loras, who regarded him with a suspiciously innocent expression.

"How come you're so nice to everybody except me?" Robb asked.

Margaery gave him a vaguely disgusted look. "I hope you're not expecting a serious answer."

Just as their fight was about to escalate, Loras thankfully stepped in. "Margaery," he addressed his younger twin, "Robb is going to be in the same planning class as you."

"Is he?" Margaery's smile turned sugar sweet. "Then I suppose you will be of some use to me in the upcoming months."

"Ms. Mormont's class?" Robb asked, hoping that Margaery had gotten mixed up and would have ended up in Qyburn's class.

"You bet," said Margaery. "There's no way I would choose Qyburn. That guy has a bunch of little preserved heads in his office. And it always smells like formaldehyde in there for some reason."

"I'm surprised you know what formaldehyde is," Robb said quietly.

"I'm not an idiot," said Margaery.

"I never said you were!" Retorted Robb.

"It sure sounded like it."

"Guys!" Loras butted in. "Lunch is almost over. You have your special class in ten minutes. Now can you please get along?"

Robb and Margaery gave each other looks of revulsion.

"For me?"

Their faces didn't change.

"Okay, if you don't get along, I'm going to tell you guys all about my relationship problems."

"Looks like we have a truce, Stark." Margaery held out a hand.

Robb took it confidently. "You can count on it, Tyrell."

"Now can we _please_ get to class? I have biology with Mr. Lannister and I really want to get front row seats to that if you know what I'm talking about."

* * *

"This the place?"

Margaery nodded, looking at the door with slight apprehension. "You go in first," she said to Robb, who shook his head vehemently.

"Ladies first." He mock-bowed.

"You choose now to be chivalrous?" Margaery shifted her weight to one hip and crossed her arms. "Man, my brother really knows how to pick 'em."

"Excuse me," a voice piped up behind them, "are you two in this class?"

Robb and Margaery turned to face the source of the voice. Behind them stood a tall boy around their age carrying a backpack that looked to be several pounds heavier than most elementary-aged children.

"And if we are?" Asked Margaery, a semi-flirtatious smile on her face.

"Then I'd ask you to please move out of the way so I can open the door," the boy replied without batting an eye. Robb instantly took a liking to him.

"I'm Robb," he said.

"Gendry," the boy said, nodding in his direction.

"That name sounds familiar," Margaery murmured, shuffling to the side. "I think Sansa's mentioned you before."

"Why would my sister talk about this guy?" Robb jutted a finger over to Gendry. "No offense," he said to the boy.

"None taken," Gendry said, pulling open the door. He leaned inside. "Are we early?"

"I don't think so," said Robb. "The bell's already rung."

"Nobody's here," said Gendry. "Oh wait. There's one guy here, but I don't see the teacher."

Robb filed into the class after Gendry. Coughing slightly, he waved his hand in front of him. Dust particles swam in the air in front of him thanks to the afternoon sunlight streaming through the slits of the grey blinds. Sitting in one of the back seats was someone with their hood up, feet resting on the desk. The figure looked to be sleeping. Robb cleared his throat. The figure sat up and pushed their hood back, revealing their face.

"Are you in this class?" Robb asked.

The boy blinked sleepily. "What?"

"Planning," Robb repeated slowly. "This is the planning class for the seniors who either failed it in grade ten or never took it. Are you in this class?"

The boy gave a slight start. "Planning?" He repeated. At Robb's nod, he straightened his clothes, combing an anxious hand through his hair. "I apologize for my appearance," he said hastily. "I've been up all night and hadn't gotten a chance to properly sleep."

"No harm done," said Robb. "I'm Robb and that's Gendry." He pointed to Gendry, who gave a little wave. "And that's—where's Margaery?"

"Margaery?" The boy asked, flushing red to the roots of his dark hair. "She's here?"

"Of course I'm here!" Margaery strode into the classroom with the sort of grace you'd expect from an entire squadron of ballerinas. Upon looking at the newcomer, she took a step back. "You never told me you were in this class."

"You never told me, either." The boy said. "I'm Quentyn, by the way," he told Robb and Gendry.

"Do you two know each other?" Robb asked.

They exchanged glances, Quentyn shuffling nervously. "You could say that we're acquainted," he said.

"That's one way to put it," muttered Margaery.

"Where's the teacher?" Asked Gendry as he filed into a seat near the middle. "I thought class was supposed to start five minutes ago."

"Well if she isn't herein the next fifteen minutes, we're legally allowed to leave," said Margaery brightly.

"I'm afraid that won't be necessary, Miss…Tyrell, is it?" Standing near the door was a tall woman, almost as tall as Robb. She was dressed sharply in black and white, a battered leather bag held in one hand, and a travelling coffee mug in the other.

"Are you our teacher?" Robb asked, feeling a little lightheaded.

"Unfortunately, yes," said Dacey Mormont. She crossed the expanse from the door to her desk in three easy strides, plunking her thermos on the desk.

Her hair was black, thought Robb, blacker than even Jon's. Scrunching his brow, he tried to temporary erase the image he'd constructed of Jon's head on Miss Mormont's body.

"I'm Dacey Mormont," she said. She picked up a whiteboard marker and wrote her name in a spiky scrawl. "You can call me whatever you want, as long as it isn't a derogatory term. Dacey's fine, though. I probably won't respond to 'Miss Mormont' anyways."

"Can I call you Dace?" Margaery asked with one hand raised daintily in the air.

"Only if I can call you Marg," replied Dacey without missing a beat. She took a swig from her mysterious thermos.

"Will we be needing any required textbooks for this class?" Asked Quentyn. "Mr. Luwin didn't mention any and I don't have a copy of the syllabus."

"If there was a textbook for life," Dacey said, "you can bet your ass I'd be lining up for that."

"Is that a yes or a no?"

"Just make sure you show up."

Robb sighed, placing his head on his desk. This class was full of idiots.

"You!"

Robb started. Looking up, he pointed to himself. "Me?"

Dacey nodded grimly. "Yeah, you. No sleeping in my class. I understand that you may be a little apprehensive about learning the finer points of sexual education, but if you don't pay attention, you're not going to pass."

Robb averted his stare from Dacey's piercing gaze. "Sorry," he mumbled.

Dacey walked up to his desk, placing a hand on his table. She leaned in close to his ear. "I don't really want to be here, I'll admit that right off the bat. I'd rather be teaching a history class than this stupid bullshit. So please, don't make this difficult for me."

Robb could feel the blush on his cheeks. Finally, Dacey stepped away, a bright smile on her face. "Nice talking to you, Stark."

As she walked away, Margaery looked over at Robb and let one eyelid fall in a slow, seductive wink that was far more mocking than he felt he deserved.


	2. A Confession of Sorts

Loras took a drag from his cigarette as he stretched out on the uncomfortable aluminum bleachers. "You're so into this teacher of yours."

"I know, right." Margaery snorted, waving away the smoke.

"No, I'm not." Robb said to Loras. "And what the hell are you even doing here?" He asked Margaery.

"What?" Margaery looked offended. "You mean I can't help charity cases who will never ever get any if I don't intervene?"

"I'm going to ignore that insult and focus on the fact that you just encouraged me to hook up with Dacey Mormont."

Margaery quirked a perfectly arched brow. "I never said it had to be Dacey," she purred. "You came to that conclusion all on your own."

"Shut up!" Robb sputtered.

"Oh, stop with your bickering," said Loras irritably. "It's enough that I have to deal with Robb's perpetual angst. I don't need you adding to it, Margaery. Stop teasing him. And Robb, don't be so sensitive. I was only joking."

"When did you become so bitter?" Robb stared down his best friend. "Normally you enjoy watching her tear me a new one."

"Treat him delicately." Margaery examined her cuticles almost apathetically, but her eyes were fixed on her twin. "He just broke up with Renly."

"But you two always break up!"

"He's never cheated on me before." Loras exhaled a plume of smoke. Even his curls had lost their luster.

"Cheated?" It was then that Robb noticed Loras was wearing plaid, something he'd sworn off in the ninth grade.

"Surprising, I know."

"Do you know for sure?" Margaery moved closer to her brother, placing a hand on his arm. Her voice sounded genuinely concerned, a rare tone for her.

"I have photographic evidence." Loras stared into his cup of organic coffee, his expression grim.

"How did you get that?"

"It's all over the internet."

"Show me." Margaery extended her hand to her brother. He passed his phone to her.

"It's Renly. He's making out with some curly-haired skank at some party," said Loras.

"Loras," Margaery tilted her head, "that's you."

Robb looked over. "It is!"

"What?" Loras tossed his empty coffee cup away from him and moved over to where Margaery was sitting.

"It's you," Margaery said, handing the phone back. "I'd recognize those curls anywhere."

"Oh my drowned god," said Loras. "You mean to say I broke up with Renly for no reason?"

"It wasn't for no reason," said Robb. "You broke up with him because you thought he was cheating on you, when in reality, you mistook yourself for a girl."

"That doesn't make it any better, Robb." Loras stood up, brushing invisible crumbs off his pants. "I've got to find Renly." Without another word, he swung his backpack onto his shoulder and ran down the bleacher steps, taking two at a time.

"He sure is eager," said Robb, trying to break the quickly forming silence between him and Margaery.

"Of course he is," said Margaery. "You know how much he loves Renly."

"Speaking of relationships, how're you and Sansa?" Robb asked, referring to one of his younger sisters who'd started dating Margaery earlier that year.

"You mean Sansa didn't tell you?"

"Tell me what?"

Margaery rolled her eyes, crossing her arms over her ample chest. "We broke up."

"You and Sansa did what?" Robb didn't quite believe his own ears. He'd always thought that Margaery and Sansa made a good—if slightly terrifying—couple. "Did you cheat on her?" He asked accusingly, his older brother instincts coming into play.

"Ew, no." Margaery shot him a disgusted glare. "Do you not talk to your own sister, or something?"

"I do!"

"Robb," said Margaery, deadpan. "You didn't even know Gendry is Arya's boyfriend or that Sansa and I broke up months ago."

"Did you cheat on her?" Robb's voice grew serious.

Margaery sighed. "Sansa's on some independence kick right now. She wants to find herself before 'finding true love' or something like that."

"So, who're you dating now?"

"I'm not dating anyone," said Margaery, inspecting her fingernails.

"Not even Quentyn Martell?"

Margaery froze. "Did he tell you?" Her gaze was furious. "When I get my hands on that little prick, I am going to strangle him."

"In more ways than one, apparently."

"Shut your mouth. We're not dating."

"So you're friends with benefits, then."

Margaery didn't answer, so Robb took her silence as confirmation. Still, he couldn't quite wrap his head around the idea of mild-mannered Quentyn Martell willingly spending his spare time with the likes of Margaery Tyrell.

"Do you miss Sansa?"

"I suppose I do but—hang on." Margaery eyed him suspiciously. "I can't stand you. Why am I telling you this?"

Robb shrugged. "My natural charisma?"

Margaery picked up Loras' empty coffee cup and chucked it at Robb who managed to avoid the trajectory.

"I thought we were having a heart-to-heart!"

"I don't think I like you that much, Stark."

* * *

"And for homework, I'll expect you to write up a draft of a cover letter, to be handed in along with your resume. Any questions?" Dacey asked the class, marker poised in the air.

Quentyn raised his hand.

"Yes?"

"What if some of us already have a cover letter?"

Dacey sighed. "Then you can hand that in, all on its own. Mr. Stark?"

Robb was jerked out of his daydream, as Dacey walked over to his two-person desk which he was the only occupant of. "What?" He asked, semi-groggily.

"Can I help you with something?" Dacey asked sarcastically. "Maybe my class isn't interesting enough for you?"

Robb blushed red to the roots of his already auburn hair. "N-nothing," he stammered, trying not to make eye contact with Dacey.

"Let's keep it that way."

Margaery snorted rather inelegantly.

Robb turned around in his seat and glared at her. She only rolled her eyes, and tossed her hair over her shoulder. Some of it smacked Quentyn in the face.

* * *

Robb shoved his hands in his pockets, waiting outside Mr. Lannister's science class. Loras would be out any second.

"Waiting for Loras?" Margaery said, sauntering over to where Robb stood.

"I always wait for him. He's my ride home."

Margaery's lips quirked into a sardonic smile. "Loras didn't go to class, today."

"What?"

"He skipped class. So did Renly. In fact, I'm pretty sure they're at Renly's place right now. I'm also pretty sure they're—"

"It's okay, you don't have to tell me," said Robb. He began walking down the hall away from Margaery. Maybe, if Gendry was around, he could catch a ride from him, provided that he was giving Arya a ride home.

"Hey!" Margaery followed him, taking large steps to match his pace. "I wasn't done talking."

"Well, I'm done listening."

"That's not very nice of you, Mr. Stark. I wonder what Dacey would think if she knew you were this moody all the time."

Robb froze. "I don't know what you're talking about," he said crisply, trying to emulate Sansa's cool nature in the face of disaster.

"I think you do," said Margaery, stepping in front of Robb with a smirk on her face. "I think you do know."

"Go away, Margaery." He tried to wave her away.

She laughed. "No way, lover-boy. You have a crush on our planning teacher!"

"Don't say it so loud!" Robb felt like stomping his feet. "What if someone hears you?"

"So you admit it?"

"I admit what?"

"That you like Dacey Mormont?"

Robb glared at Margaery. "You better not tell anyone, you horrid cow."

"I'd take offense to that," Margaery said, "but then I realized I don't particularly care."

"Don't tell!"

Margaery huffed dramatically. "Fine," she conceded, "but you're no fun to tease, anyways. You'd probably just sulk or something." Then, she started giggling.

"What're you laughing about?"

Margaery didn't answer. Her giggles turned to full-blown laughter. Soon, she was practically hunched over and had to lean a nearby locker.

"What's so funny?" Robb asked, feeling somewhat offended.

"You're such a dweeb," said Margaery, as she wiped tears of mirth from her eyes. "I never took you for someone who goes for the 'forbidden love' kind of relationship."

"Shut up." Robb said.

Margaery just chuckled at his pout.

* * *

"Margaery tells me you want to hook up with your teacher."

Robb dropped his juice box. "She told you _what?_ "

"We're twins," said Loras. "We don't keep secrets from each other."

"But it wasn't her secret to tell!"

"Plus you're my best friend," Loras reasoned. "I would've found out eventually."

Robb crossed his arms. "No, you wouldn't have. I'm very good with keeping secrets."

Loras scoffed, sounding frighteningly like Margaery. "No, you're not." He discreetly elbowed a kid next to him whose lunch was teetering dangerously close to the edge of the lunch tables. Loras lowered his voice. "That one time in the fourth grade, you told everyone that Margaery had lice after I specifically said not to tell."

"You remember that?"

"Why do you think Margaery's always so mean to you?"

Robb blinked confusedly. "You mean she's actually holding a grudge against me because of that?"

"I wouldn't say it's a grudge," said Loras, idly picking the ham off his sandwich. "More of a mild dislike."

"Mild dislike?" Robb echoed. "Loras, she hates me."

"Don't be silly!" Margaery appeared from out of nowhere, plopping herself in-between the whispering pair. She placed a hand on Robb's arm. "I would support you in each and every one of your endeavours."

"Really." Robb looked skeptical.

"Really," Margaery confirmed. "Which is why I think you should confess your feelings to Dacey."

Loras' eyes widened. "See, Robb? Margaery doesn't hate you. She's encouraging you to get with your teacher!"

Robb flinched. "Could you say that any louder?" He hissed.

"Contrary to popular belief, not everyone in the world is paying attention to you at any given second," Margaery said.

"And we're back to normal," said Robb. After a beat of silence, he asked, "Do you really think I should confess to her?"

Margaery's beautiful face lit up with a smile. "Of course!"

Robb looked to Loras for support. "If that's what's going to make you happy, go for it."

"Are you sure?"

Margaery huffed dramatically. "Robb, the only reason why I was able to date your sister was because I took a leap of faith and confessed."

Loras nodded. "Same with me. I was worried that Renly wasn't even attracted to other men."

"You were worried that Renly wasn't gay?" Margaery asked, disbelieving.

"That's beside the point." Loras brushed away Margaery's comment. "I'm starting to agree with my sister. You should confess, Robb."

"But you guys confessed to other students," reasoned Robb. "I'm confessing to a teacher."

"You never know what kind of kinky shit other people are into," said Margaery, her tone blasé. "Your sister is a testament to that."

"I don't exactly need to hear a blow-by-blow account of your previous relationship with my sister."

"Speaking of blow, Quentyn—"

"Margaery." Robb put up a hand to silence her. "I'm trying to eat."

Margaery rolled her eyes. "Prude."

Robb opened his mouth to retort with an equally insulting name, but the bell rang, cutting him off.

"Time for class." Margaery eased herself out of the mosh-pit that was the crowded lunch table. "Hey, lover-boy. My next class is in the same direction as yours. Walk me."

Loras smirked and together, he and Margaery made a frightening duo. "I know I'm more than ready for class with Renly."

Robb looked from Loras and Margaery. Once again, he was questioning his choice in company. "I suppose so."

"Great," crowed Margaery, grabbing Robb by the arm. "See you later, Loras!"

Loras waved a hand in kind, a funny little smile on his face.

* * *

The bell rang, signifying the end of the school day. Robb immediately jumped to his feet, cramming his loose leaf paper into his mess of a binder.

"Good luck," Margaery taunted, sliding by him gracefully. "I'll see you later."

Robb rolled his eyes. On the outside, he was the picture of confidence, but on the inside, he was a nervous wreck. He'd never confessed to anyone in his entire life. The last person he'd dated—a soft-spoken girl by the name of Jeyne Westerling—was a result of a blind date, thanks to his sister Sansa.

"Bye, Robb." Gendry waved at him.

"Bye," Robb said. "Say hello to Arya for me."

Gendry nodded. "Will do."

Robb watched Dacey Mormont slowly gather her things. She seemed happy for a change, a small smile gracing her attractive face.

"Robb?" Quentyn had somehow snuck up behind him.

"Hm?"

"Err…my sister's throwing a party this weekend and I was wondering if you'd be available to come?" Quentyn was the kind of person who phrased nearly everything as a question. Robb wondered how Margaery put up with him. "That is, if you want to? You don't have to come. My sister said to invite my friends so I figured I'd ask you, Gendry, and Margaery."

Robb pretended to check his empty social calendar. "Looks like I'll be free this weekend. Yeah, I'd love to come."

Quentyn smiled. "Sounds good. I'll text you the address." Heaving his heavy backpack over his shoulder, he walked out the door. "See you on Saturday, then!"

Now, it was just the two of them. With great hesitation, Robb walked up to Dacey's desk. "Dacey?"

She hardly looked up from her bag. "Yes, Mr. Stark?"

"Could I speak to you for a second?"

"Make it snappy."

Robb opened his mouth, but the words wouldn't come out. "I…er...just wanted to ask—well not really ask. Actually, I sort of wanted to say, but I don't know if 'say' is the right word to use?"

Dacey finally looked up, staring the red-faced Robb in the eye. "If this is about your marks, you're doing fine. As long as you continue to do the homework, you won't fail."

"Oh," said Robb. "Well, this isn't really about the homework…"

"Then, what is it about?"

Robb took a deep breath. "These are for you!" He held out the box of chocolates he'd bought the other day with Margarey and Loras. The box was in the shape of a heart and decorated with a shiny pink ribbon.

Dacey blinked slowly, taking the box from Robb's shaking hands. "I'm sorry, Robb. I'm already spoken for."

"Oh."

"But I do appreciate the sentiment. It is rather flattering that you find me attractive enough to buy chocolates for me."

"Oh, I'm sorry."

"Let's keep this a secret between us, shall we?" Asked Dacey with a secretive smile. "I wouldn't want to ruin the relationship between us as of now and I'm sure my partner wouldn't be too pleased to hear that she has competition."

"Your partner?"

"Yes," said Dacey. "I believe her brother's an acquaintance of yours. You wouldn't happen to know an Asha Greyjoy, would you?"

* * *

"She's already has a girlfriend?" Margaery asked through gasping laughter.

"Yeah," said a dejected Robb. "This sucks. I shouldn't have even tried."

"But you did," said Margaery, in complete seriousness. "You tried and you got rejected. But so what?"

"So, it's embarrassing!"

"So?" Margaery picked at her cuticles. "You confessed, she said no. Move on. You're young and good-looking and when you're not being a total asshole, you can be a really great guy. I'm sure that between Loras and me, we can find you someone."

"You really think I'm good-looking?"

"I say all those nice things about you and that's the thing you choose to focus on," murmured Margaery. "Yes, Robb, you are good-looking. I'm positive that there's at least one lucky girl out there who's going to get to date you."

If Margaery was any other girl, Robb might have kissed her. However, Margaery was Margaery and not at all the kind of girl Robb envisioned himself dating.

"You're being nice today. I feel suspicious."

"What?" Margaery grinned. "I can't be nice to one of my friends?"

"You feel bad for me, don't you."

Margaery didn't respond right away.

Robb rolled his eyes playfully.

"There's nothing wrong with a bit of pity."

**-the end- (but not really)**

"Robb?" Quentyn asked over the din. "Have you met my sister? Robb, this is Arianne. Arianne, Robb." Quentyn motioned to the beautiful girl next to him who moved forward and held out her hand for Robb to shake.

"I'm Arianne," she said, smiling.

"Robb." He couldn't help but to blush furiously.

"Glad you could make it," said Arianne. "Pity we never met before. I've heard so much about you from Quentyn and his girlfriend."

At the mention of 'girlfriend', Robb turned to Quentyn with raised eyebrows. Quentyn cocked his head and gave an uncharacteristic smirk reminiscent of Margaery.

"I wish we'd been introduced earlier," said Robb. "I hear you throw fantastic parties."

"Would you like a tour of the place?" Arianne asked coyly, holding out her arm for Robb to take.

"I would love a tour," said Robb confidently.

The pair waved goodbye to Quentyn and walked away, talking animatedly and barely paying attention to their surroundings. After making sure they couldn't see him, Quentyn fist-pumped the air. Margaery so owed him twenty bucks for this.

**-the (actual) end-**


End file.
